Advice From A Stranger
by Songwind
Summary: Chichiri ficcy. Starts out a lil' angsty. He talks to a stranger to give her advice and ends up getting advice himself. Please review?!


Advice from a Stranger  
By Songwind  
Notes- Ah, I'm kinda new to Fushigi Yuugi. This is my first FY ficcy. Hi. ^_^ I hope you like. Kind of starts out angsty, then... well, I hope it turns out lighter. You'll see as you go, ne?  
Disclaimer- I don't own Fushigi Yuugi, the Universe of the Four Gods, or Chichiri. (sigh) What a cruel, cruel world...  
  
~*~  
  
Alone at last. Chichiri sighed as he sank down on a bench near the store he'd just walked out of. He set the collection of food to one side, and made a mental note to not forget where he left it. If he did, there would be hell to pay when he returned to the others at camp.  
  
Why they chose him to do the buying, he didn't know, but he was grateful. Did Miaka see and understand his need to be alone once in a while, or were they all just feeling lazy today? It was certainly that type of day. The perfect day for fishing. Chichiri sighed again, but this time with a little longing. If only there was a pool or lake nearby...  
  
But there wasn't. Instead, there was a busy city with people shouting at each other. Oh well, at least he wasn't the one keeping everyone away from each other so they wouldn't kill each other. That got very, very tiring after a while.   
  
Well, no matter why he was sent here, he was glad for the chance to relax a few of his barriers. Despite all the people around him, he was going unnoticed so he could lounge for a while.   
  
"Just don't brood all day," came Miaka's teasing voice to mind.  
  
He smiled a little. Truth to tell, it'd been a while since he'd had a chance to brood for real. And brooding was a good thing once in a while. Especially considering...  
  
No. No brooding. He'd promised.  
  
Something itched. It itched terribly. Chichiri raised a hand to scratch at his forehead, but the mask was in the way. In any case, it made the itch worse. What was it, a bug bite of some sort? But he hadn't had his mask off for a while... then would it be a rash? But the mask never rubbed...  
  
The itching got worse. With an irritated, "Da," muttered under his breath, Chichiri pulled the mask off. He glanced around to make sure no one saw him. No one was really paying attention to anyone but themselves on a day like this. He would be alright for a few minutes.  
  
Now for the itch. Chichiri let out a satisfied grunting noise as he scratched the accursed spot, wondering what had caused the thing to itch so much. The scar didn't reach up there, though that itched once in a while.  
  
"Perhaps I should look at it, no da," he muttered, and glanced around again. Still no one was really nearby, so he picked up his things, mask still in hand in case he ran into anyone, and wandered in search of a mirror.  
  
He found a small, decorative pool nearby and knelt down to peer at it. The pool was deep enough to show his reflection.  
  
He forced himself to look away from the scar and looked up at his forehead. Just a little red mark. It didn't seem like a rash... He scratched the area again when the itch returned, then rubbed the spot ruefully. Scratching would only make it worse. But he couldn't help it.  
  
Just like he couldn't help looking at that scar. The flood of painful memories rushed through his mind repeatedly whenever he glanced at it, or touched it. He was doing both now, tracing the scar gently. His good eye was wide and shimmering. With unshed tears? Maybe. He hadn't really wept for a while. But then, when would he have had time to be alone? Had Miaka realized this, or was it just pure chance he was sent?  
  
Suddenly he sensed a presence behind him. "Oh!" said a female voice. "I'm sorry for interrupting you. I didn't think anyone would be here."  
  
Chichiri started and fumbled to put the mask back on. The blasted thing refused. He turned around so only his good eye was showing and said, "Quite alright, no da. Why do you think not?"  
  
"I don't know. People just usually aren't around this time of day. If you don't mind my prying, good sir, are you a traveler?"  
  
Chichiri studied her. A young girl, hair tied back, in a decent kimono. She was fairly attractive, almost into womanhood. But... she had a melancholy look in her eyes, and she didn't look like she smiled a whole lot. Was she depressed? No, just tired probably. Or she was just upset about something that would pass. Besides, it wasn't his business...  
  
"I am that, no da."  
  
The girl looked at him curiously. "Is that a mask? Are you going to a party of some sort, sir?""  
  
"No," he replied, glancing at the mask in his hand. "It's just a mask, no da." He stood abruptly. "Well, I should be going. Nice speaking to you, no da!" he declared, and turned to walk away.  
  
Her eyes widened for a moment, and Chichiri knew he'd made a mistake. "Sir, that's..." she lowered her voice. "That's a horrid scar, sir. Does... it hurt?"  
  
A flood of pain rushed back. "Not anymore, no da," he said quietly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her head. "It's rude for me to stare."  
  
Chichiri quickly put the mask on, and this time it cooperated. "It's alright, I'm used to it no da."  
  
The girl glanced up, and once again her eyes widened. But this time it was in surprise. "Wow, that's a really good mask!" she said. "I didn't know masks were that good at showing expressions or anything."  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"Sorry, I'm prying again." She turned away and started towards his abandoned bench. She sat down and stared at the ground a little bit. "Good day," she added politely, but absently.  
  
Chichiri picked up the foodstuffs that he'd bought, and then glanced back at the girl. The melancholy on her face was much more obvious now. He could also feel a little of what she felt through his magic. Not thoughts, that was pretty rude to pick on someone else's thoughts, but she was almost projecting her feelings out.  
  
He hesitated, then took a couple steps towards the young woman. "If you'll excuse me, is something wrong no da?"  
  
"Hmm?" The girl glanced up at him, as though surprised he was talking to her. "Oh, nothing really. Just me that's wrong, nothing too important."  
  
"Excuse me again, no da," he said, taking another step towards her. He frowned a little. "What would be wrong about you, no da? Are you ill?"  
  
She shook her head a little. "No, my health is well, thank you. It's... just a little problem. I'm sure you've got more to do than listen to me complain about my life."  
  
He sensed the projection of sadness turn a little towards hope. "Sometimes we need to tell someone our problems, even if they are a stranger no da."  
  
"I've heard that saying before somewhere. It's true, then." The girl nodded. "If you really don't mind..."   
  
To show he didn't mind, Chichiri sat down on the other side of the bench, making sure that the foodstuffs wouldn't escape from their basket, and turned his attention to the girl. After all, as a monk he felt a little obligated to helping more than just his priestess, as important as that job was. "What is wrong, no da?" he asked gently.  
  
"Well... it's sort of a family problem," the girl said, a little hesitantly. "It's just like my family expects more of me than I am capable, and when I don't reach their expectations..." she trailed off.  
  
Chichiri frowned in a little concern. Did her parents beat her?  
  
She must have thought he'd wonder that. "They don't hurt me or anything, but I can feel they're disappointed. Mother will say, 'Oh, how nice' with that fake smile on her face and Father will just grunt and go back to work with whatever he's doing. And that... that hurts more than any beating or any abuse could do." The girl sighed. "And it happens with everything, not just reading and writing. If my counting is off, I'll get that grunt. If I make a friend who's not in 'high status,' I'll get a fake smile. It even stretches to, well, who I... like." She blushed a little.  
  
"They do not approve of your choices, no da?" Chichiri guessed.  
  
"In a way. I haven't chosen anyone yet, and they think something's wrong with me." Then the girl's lip quivered. "But they don't understand! I'm not ready for what they want me to do yet! I'm too young, I don't know enough yet! I'm human! What more could they want?" She turned to Chichiri. "Don't parents only want the best for their kids? And don't they only want their children to be normal?"  
  
The melancholy was much stronger. She was projecting it all over the place. Chichiri felt sort of guilty at the thought of leaving her to brood alone like this.   
  
"Of course parents want the best, no da," he said comfortingly. He patted her shoulder a little. It was enough to say 'I'm here' without invading her privacy. "They almost always do. Though also, the parent likes to think that THEIR child shall be the next to change the world, no da. Perhaps those are the lines your parents are thinking of?"  
  
"It makes sense," the girl said. Her lower lip was still quivering. "But why do they have to make it so obvious they're disappointed? When I get a decent report from my schooling tutors they only ask, 'Why not higher?'"  
  
"Perhaps they don't realize what they are doing, no da?" Chichiri suggested.   
  
"And, and, they keep pointing out guys to me all the time! 'Oh, isn't THAT a nice boy. Do you know him?'" Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "And they don't even seem to approve about what I like to wear! Is there anything wrong with this?" she glanced at her kimono.  
  
"It is a good kimono," he assured her. "Have you told them you are not interested yet, no da?"  
  
"Countless times..." She looked up at him. "I need a mask like the one you have, sir. I wouldn't have to be alone to let things out so often. I could hide my tears behind a mask..."  
  
"Da..." Chichiri's good eye widened at the words. /Could hide tears behind such a mask... That's what I thought when I was young, no da!/ "That is why I wear it, no da," he admitted.   
  
"You're depressed?" she asked, surprised. "Why would you be?"  
  
"Not depressed, no da. Merely in mourning for two loved ones that I lost in the same day, years ago no da. And both were my fault."  
  
"Lost them, how?" the girl asked gently. "Was there a fight? Is that why you have that scar?"  
  
/The girl catches on quickly, no da,/ he thought. He nodded silently.  
  
"But... if you are angry, and there is a fight, sometimes you can't control yourself. Or things get out of hand. There could be a natural disaster. That can't be your fault, unless you somehow control the weather."  
  
Chichiri slowly nodded. The rock was not his fault. "But I let go, no da," he whispered.  
  
Now it was the girl's turn to touch his shoulder gently. "The ones left behind aren't always the ones to blame," she said gravely. "But they almost always think they are."  
  
He looked up in surprise. This from a young girl who had been on the edge of tears but a moment before?  
  
"If you cared about these loved ones, you'd set them free," she continued. "At least, I'd like to think I would. Let their spirits continue on, wherever they may go, without guilt over leaving you a mess. You cared for them and they for you, right?"  
  
/If you love something, let it go no da.../ he thought.  
  
"You wear the mask to hide your feelings, to bottle them up?" she asked.  
  
"I wear it to keep people from seeing the scar. It makes them uncomfortable, no da," he admitted. "It is the scar that has to do with my feelings, no da."  
  
"Can I... see the scar again? Please?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
Chichiri paused. /...Why not, no da? She's already seen it.../ He nodded and pulled it off.  
  
The girl didn't react to the scar this time. She reached out before he could say anything and touched the scar. "So the scar itself doesn't hurt?" she asked softly.  
  
Chichiri felt the girl's light touch on his scar and twitched a little. "No, no da," he said.  
  
"I think you are worried about what people think of you," she said. "About your scar. Don't wear that mask. It doesn't show the real you. If someone sees your scar, and if they have any idea of what happened to you to get it, then I think they'll appreciate you more. Hiding behind a mask would do nothing..."  
  
He chuckled. "Wouldn't the same be true for you, no da?"  
  
She actually smiled a little. "I suppose so." She removed her finger from the scar. "In any case, once people see you with the scar, they'll get used to it. And to you. Just try it."  
  
Chichiri felt a little lighter in spirits now. "And for you, no da. Talk to your family and your friends if they do not approve of you. And let them know you will still go on as human as possible, no da." He smiled.  
  
"I... think I will. Thank you, sir." She suddenly reached over and pecked him on the cheek, leaving Chichiri blushing madly and startled. "We may be strangers, but I needed to tell someone, anyone about this. Thank you." She started walking off.  
  
The monk conquered his blushes quickly, but even so the girl was gone before he could in turn thank her. He sighed, and glanced down at the mask in his hands.   
  
"What an interesting young woman, no da," he murmured. "I help her, and she helps me... I think..." he hesitated, then put the mask into a pocket. "For just a while, I will see what happens, no da..."  
  
He picked up the foodstuffs and stood, staring after where the girl had gone. Then he turned and headed out of town towards the camp, food in hand, mask in pocket.  
  
When he arrived Nuriko ducked behind him. "Stop her!" he cried. "She wants to do horrible things to my face!"  
  
Chichiri sweat-dropped as Miaka glared at them. "Da..."  
  
"It's not horrible! These creams actually work!" she answered, and Chichiri could see what Nuriko was talking about. Miaka's face was covered in that odd, greenish stuff she said cleaned her face. "I look good, don't I?" When no one answered, she repeated, "DON'T I?!"  
  
"Ano... I brought the food," Chichiri said quickly, holding up the basket.   
  
"Alright, food!" Miaka said, forgetting immediately what they were talking about. "Let's eat!"  
  
The other men glanced at Chichiri and nodded in greeting, though they all noticed something was different. Nuriko in particular looked curious.  
  
"Did you lose your mask, Chichiri?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to one side.  
  
"No," came a younger voice. Chichiri spotted Chiriko as the boy looked at him gravely. "He's got it. He's just not wearing it."  
  
Chichiri nodded a little.  
  
"Good for you!" Nuriko said. "I say you look better without it!" He sat down beside Miaka and gestured. "So, who's cooking?"  
  
Chichiri blinked his good eye in surprise. They were all accepting his scar without so much as a word! Had the mask... been that stupid an idea from the start? He glanced down at his pocket. /Perhaps I'll keep it off just a little longer and see, no da.../  
  
He couldn't forget what happened when he was younger. When he lost his friend and his love. And his eye. But the mask wasn't what reminded him of it. The scar did. And maybe after a while, he could follow that girl's advice and accept it and stop mourning.  
  
/Many sayings out there are true after all, no da,/ he found himself thinking as he joined the group. /Strangers can sometimes be the best listeners... and give the best advice.../  
  
~*~  
  
Well, that's all! Uh, the girl's just a random girl, in case you were wondering. Anyway, what did you think? I hope you liked! 


End file.
